The Chronicles of Bob
by BasketKiwi
Summary: This is the story of a first year with a really deep voice and a yellow sparkplug named Louisiana. A tale of Wild Hermione, Ron with Words O' Wisdom, BananaAttacking Draco, and Harry Potter, who may have had SOMETHING to do with it...
1. Mashed Potatoes and Draco Banana Attacks

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, settings, etc. only the plot. Blah, blah, blah! Now let's get on with the tasty random nonsense! Which really is tasty you know. A bit spicy, but not bad with some dressing . . . _

Chapter One- Mashed Potatoes and Draco Banana Attacks!

Harry sleepily opened his eyes and tried to take in the view he was faced with. He could see down the Gryffindor table and one wall of the Great Hall. The grand doors stood tall and open, though there were few still in the Hall at this time. He felt an odd wet sensation caressing his right hand and slowly turned his head to look at it. His hand was resting in a plate of mashed potatoes.

_Mashed Potatoes! _Harry thought bitterly. The thought always made him feel quite heated and slightly downcast. I mean, those poor innocent potatoes! Why did they have to be mashed? WHY! They were happy as normal potatoes. (They even had eyes! Bu-dum-cchh…! Well, I thought it was funny.) Then they were beaten, hammered, battered and smooshed. And all that potato-pain was for his Taste Bud's enjoyment? How crude could you get?

Anyway, he tried to tear his mind from mashed potato civil rights and lifted his hand, gingerly, from the plate. Wiping it on a napkin, Harry caught a glimpse of the Staff Table (I don't know if this should be capitalized or not, but it seems more intimidating and important like this) perched elegantly in front of the Great Hall (Ooh! Doesn't the capital-ness just send shivers down your spine?). The four Heads of Houses ( - do I need to say anything?), Dumbledore, and the other professors were perched majestically on velvet-backed chairs, studded with gold. Expensive china decorated the sophisticated, deep purple tablecloth and goblets of gilt hung stylishly from their hands (pinkies up of course! We must stay fancy!).

Harry sighed dreamily. He wondered if he'd ever be up there- eating gracefully and discussing matters of dire importance while throwing in the occasional "why did the chicken cross the road?" Sure enough, there was lofty laughter emanating from the Staff Table and Professor Flitwick giggled superiorly into his hand. "I _know!_ Aren't those words simply the most comical your marvelous ears have ever been graced with? _To get to the other side!" _And the Staff Table once again erupted with regal guffaws. (I don't know why I decided to describe the Staff Table so intricately or why the teachers seem so fancy and superior. Just go with the flow!)

Harry stood up slowly from the bench and strode towards the doors, pushing up his Nerdy – and yet irresistible – black frames farther onto his nose. They had arrived at Hogwarts on a Thursday, which had left them one day of classes before today, when they got to relax and do the small amount of homework already given to them from the professors.

Harry made sure to stop before the staircase and say a prayer to the Weekend Gods to thank them for making this Saturday morning so relaxing. After performing a tribal dance and placing his palms together, Harry meditated for a short moment. The Weekend Gods were trying to tell him something. Someone was coming. Someone was right behind him. Suddenly the view changed to the quality of an old Kung-Fu movie. In slow motion, without ever opening his eyes, Harry lifted his right leg and threw it behind him, spinning around and Karate-Chopping his attacker in the ribs.

A surprised yelp was announced and Harry opened his eyes to see Draco Malfoy sprawled dramatically across the floor. "Oh, woe is me! For I hath been crippled in my attempts to harm thee. Why do thee hath to have such keen reflexes? WHY…ETH?" Draco raised the back of his hand and rested it on his forehead, his tongue lolled out of his mouth in defeat and he slipped into unconsciousness from the Sheer Intenseness of it all. And let me assure you, there was invisible electricity – is there any other kind? - crackling through the air around The-Boy-Who-Lived, even before he noticed the banana lying in his enemy's limp grasp.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he answered the form, unconscious though it might be, "Grasshopper, it is not the reindeer and his antlers, but the spoon inside the boot… Oh, and if you every try to attack me with a banana again, you _will_ be subject to MY WRATH!"

A first year walking by heard this exclamation and chorused in a baritone voice, "DUN, DUN, DUUUNNN!" Satisfied, Harry started making his way up the stairs and the boy turned around to resume his search for the missing yellow spark plug.

Harry reached the top of the stairs and walked as silently as possible through The Empty Hallway. However, he couldn't help the eerie echo his footsteps caused as they bounced off The Empty Hallway. Finally, Harry reached his destination: The Gryffindor Common Room. But first, he had to face…THE FAT LADY! Sighing, the first year came around the corner again and exclaimed in a deep tenor, "DUN, DUN, DUUUNNN!" Before muttering something about people having no respect for pineapples and walking away to once again look for his precious canary-yellow plug.

The Fat Lady stared at Harry down her nose and sniffed snootily. Her pale pink dress gushed about her legs and hot pink, plaid shoes poked out from underneath her lacy petticoat. The Fat Lady cleared her throat and asked in the most menacing way possible, "What is the password?"

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth fell open, "I…I…" Harry couldn't believe it. Was it possible? No it wasn't. But yes, it must be! Harry collapsed to the ground in a heap of robes and hormones and cradled his head in his hands tragically before screaming, "I DON'T KNOW THE PASSWORD!"

Where was that first year boy when you _really _needed him to "dun dun dun"? If anyone's interested, he was currently yodeling in the Swiss Alps, gently stroking his golden spark plug, Louisiana. "I-I-I lo-00-oove yo-uuuu Louisi!" He belted out in Swedish and smiled as it echoed throughout the mountains, causing an avalanche…

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Sorry if randomness isn't your thing, but I'm in love with it. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review, even if it's short, so I can get some feedback and know whether or not to continue it. Once again, thank you for reading it and I hope it wasn't a COMPLETE waste of time!

P.S. If there are any errors - grammatically or Harry-Potterly - please let me know and I'll fix them as soon as I can!


	2. Words O’ Wisdom and Wild Hermione

Chapter Two – Passwords, Words O' Wisdom, and Wild Hermione!

Harry's brain was currently exhausted from the mental stress of remembering the password.

"Heffalump?" Asked Harry doubtingly. The Fat Lady merely narrowed her eyes and _harrumphed._ (I have no idea how this is supposed to be spelled, or if it's even a word, but it sounds really cool, doesn't it? Actually, so cool that I'm going to get back on my Capitalization Spree and Capitalize it!) No, she didn't _harrumph. _She _Harrumphed_. Duh!

Anyway, taking that _Harrumph_ as a no, Harry racked his brain for passwords they'd had in the past (though this doesn't make sense because why would they use the same password twice? But this was Harry we were talking about here, not Hermione. What did you expect?). "Knuckle-ball?" (--Head-shake--) "Chinese Fish Hooks?" (--Nose-scrunch up--) "Thumbtack Of Doom?" (--Eye brow-raise--) "Panty Patent?" (--Loser-sneeze--)

Harry raised his hand to his forehead dramatically and cried out "Why, oh why, have I not the ability to remember the oh-so-passwordy password? Shall I be cursed to forget it for all eternity? I- " Harry stopped, because – low-and-behold (where the heck did that phrase come from anyway?) – _the Portrait Hole had opened!_ GASP! (Hee-hee! Wiggly lines are fun! WHOOOOOOO! ) Stuttering helplessly, Harry managed to choke out, "Wh-what? Why h-has it opened? Have you t-taken pity on me and m-my forgetfulness? I AM SHOCKED BEYOND BELIEF! . . . No, really. I am!"

"No, you young _scallywag!_ I take pity upon NO ONE!" The Fat Lady boomed.

_Hey! I resent that! _She told me in my mind.

Resent what?

_Being called The Fat Lady!_

Well, don't resent me, resent JKR! She's the one who named you that. Though, now that you mention it, it is rather rude, isn't it?

_Quite! _She sniffed indignantly. So I now resume my story.

"The reason I have opened the portrait hole is because you're aritenithus mouth (don't ask, 'cause I don't know, I just made that word up) has uttered the sacred password!" The Not-So-Fat Lady roared. (Hee-hee! Roar! Like a lion! --Not-So-Fat Lady gives icy stare-- Er . . . a not-so-fat lion?)

"I did? Could it be true? Why it must! But what word was it that I uttered so unknowingly?" Hand on chin, the young man stroked it thoughtfully. "Oh well, I'm in now." (It was "eternity" by the way. I don't know why, but I always thought that was a cool word...) And he entered the Common Room.

_Or did he . . . ? _

Nah, I'm just kidding. Of course he did.

_But what if . . . ? _

No, seriously, he entered the Common Room!

_Or else . . . ? _

Hey! GO AWAY! This is _my _story and _I_ say he Entered the Common Room!

_Okay! Sheesh! He entered the Common Room! Fine! You always have to have your way, don't you? _

YES I DO!

. . . . . . Er, okay! Anyway.

He entered the common room (ha!) and gasped theatrically as he laid eyes upon his two best friends sitting at a table before the fire. Why did he gasp theatrically you might ask? No one knows!

_Or do they . . . ?_

Oh, don't start that again!

"Tittles and Toothbrushes!" Hermione exclaimed. "I just can't seem to find the square root of the potion ingredient most commonly used in Hootenanny Draughts on Mondays if the Drunken Dragons come along to play with Spadinkygeegees!"

Harry just stared in utmost confusion. Ron, however, surprised everyone by opening his mouth and saying – in a rather old-person sounding way, "Ahh, my dear child! . . . Well, obviously you're not – what I meant was – Ah, what the heck? Ahh, my dear . . . person! You must relax, for your aura is pulsing with Spadinkygeegee-related confusion! You must open your soul and spout utter nonsense like me! Free yourself, for only then can you become one with the bowling ball!" He finished ominously. If the Dun-Dun-Dun-First-Year-With-The-Really-Deep-Voice had of been there, he would have been robbed of the ability to "dun dun dun" and would have just stared in awe and wonder along with everyone else! But, of course, he was digging his way out of 50 feet of snow, tugging along a bright yellow sparkplug behind him.

"Oh, Ron! Your spouting of utter nonsense has refreshed me! How could I not have seen it before? I will take your advice and free myself!" Hermione exclaimed wondrously.

She then proceeded to take her hair out of it's not-so-customary but needed-for-effect bun, shook her head wildly and jumped up on the table. She kicked off all the books (yes, I know, and this is indeed Hermione and not an alian who had drunken . . . drinken . . . drank . . . DRINK IN THE PAST TENSE! some Poly Juice Potion), stripped off her robes to reveal tight night-club-clothes and started to dance like a monkey in June. (Which – by the way – is a very interesting sight to see! The monkey, not Hermione. That wasn't interesting, just disturbing. Unless you're a guy, then I guess you might find it interesting, as I have clearly made it clear that she was wearing night-club-clothes, and guys seem to like those don't they? Well, at least when they're on girls. And if it's a night-club/night-club and not a Barney/night-club. Then they'd just be horrified . . . I don't know where I get all this so please don't ask. All this jumping around and rambling is hurting my head, so I'll go on with the story.)

So as Hermione continued to dance in her 'own special way', Harry walked over to Ron and sat next to him, sighing. "Do you have any advice for me, O-Obviously-Brilliant One? I am in such need of some decent guidance right now! Please, O-Philosophical One! What does the purple squirrel tell you?"

Ron stroked his chin thoughtfully in an amazing impersonation of Harry a few moments earlier. Then he smiled Dumbledore-ish and nodded all-knowingly. "Ahh, Harry. (Why do old, all-knowing people always say ah? Ah well, here we go. Wait a sec! _I _just said ah! Ah well. Ooh! I did it again! Does that make me an old, all-knowing person? Because - )

Sorry for that, I had to clamp my hand over myself's mental mouth to stop me from getting distracted again. Which happens quite a lot, really. You have no idea. It's almost as if every time I try to write about what's happening in this legendary story, I am compelled to ramble on about random nonsense! But, then again, this story is titled Randomness, is it not? So I guess it's alright for me to - --hand-clamping-over-mouth noise--

"Ah, Harry. For you, I have this life-changing, heart-felt counseling. You must run the hidden pine trails of the forest. You must taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth. You must roll in all the riches all around you, sing with all the voices of the mountain, and ask the grinning bob cat why he grins. Only then, can you paint with all the colors of the wind!"

"But of course! All my life I have waited for these faithful words! Why could I not see if before?" Harry fell from the chair or sofa or whatever he'd been sitting on, and knelt on the ground, lifting his arms to the ceiling. "NOW MY LIFE HAS MEANING! But please, my dear friend, why would I want to paint with all the colors of the wind?"

The Common Room fell silent.

_Oh, please! It really fell silent?_

Of course it did! How could it not? Why is that so hard to believe?

_Maybe because it's a _Common Room_! It _can't_ fall silent or it would be a_ Silent Room_! . . . Which it isn't!_

Oh, well, you have a point there, but – wait! I'm doing it again! THE COMMON ROOM FELL SILENT, OKAY? DEAL WITH IT!

_Well _someone_ needs a hug! . . . Sheesh! . . . _

So, the Common Room fell silent. Even Hermione stopped her sensual dance (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S HILARIOUS! _HERMIONE? SENSUAL DANCE? _HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, it's out of my system) to stare in sheer disbelief before whispering, "Do you dare doubt the Great Ronald's Words O' Wisdom?"

Harry gasped in horror and banged his head against a random lamp that popped up out of nowhere, reminding himself quite accurately of Dobby. "I'm so sorry! How could I be so stupid?"

But Rom simply smiled tranquilly (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S HILARIOUS! _Ron? Tranquil? _HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, that's out of my system now, too) and said, "Worry not, young Padwan. I will answer your question, which was said so long ago no one remembers. You asked why you would want to paint with all the colors of the wind? I'll tell you. You see- " This time, however, Ron jumped up, spread out his arms and belted out in a dazzling singing voice, "You can own the earth and still, all you own is earth until, you paint with all the colors of the wind!"

This was followed by a collection of "ooh"s and "aah"s before everyone started jumping up and suddenly bursting into song. It was quite an interesting evening.

Meanwhile, in Switzerland, the Dun-Dun-Dun-First-Year . . . well, I think you get the point . . . had just reached the surface and broke through the last of the snow, where he gasped with exhaustion, fell onto the ground, and stroked Louisi until he fell asleep…

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AN: _Wow, that really stunk, didn't it? Oh, well. It was my best shot! I hope you enjoyed it somehow, even if it's just out of pity for my poor skills._


	3. The Boy Who Dunned

_A/N: Hem. Hem (-winces- Eeewww! Umbridge! -Washes tie-dye tongue-) I happen to have entered in a challenge with DobbyFan18, who is inspiringly insane, and also GOING DOWN UNDER (even though she's pointed out that she's not an Aussie and likes to go "w00t")! So, I have to include: "a hunk of cheese, a disconnected traffic light, and several cardboard boxes" in this chapter._

Chapter 3– The Boy-Who-Dunned

Now, as I have stated, it was indeed a very interesting evening. But I can't just LEAVE you there, honestly, so I'll tell you how the evening went.

Well, first of all, the breaking out of the singing and the dancing. You see, because everyone started at once it sounded a bit like this: "EGG NOG IN SPRING TIME!" Except, of course, that it was less . . . in English.

Dean (since this is pre-HBP and therefore pre-Dean/Ginny-weirdness) was kneeling on the fireplace (and not an abandoned corridor with The Great Ronald: Sprouter Of Words O' Wisdom's kid sister). He, obviously, was singing to the fire. It went a little somethin' like this: "Oh my pretty, pretty shnookums, how thee glow with scorching brightness. I would kiss thee, pretty shnookums, and if not for the fear of my melting lips! OOOOOHHHH! OHH, BABY, OOOOHHHH YEAAAAAAHHHH!"

Neville was crooning to his Mumsliona Bajestica (I'm too lazy to look up the name of his cactus, so sue me . . . Okay, I felt bad, it's _Mimbulus mimbletonia._ Happy?). It was attempting to do the worm in return.

Seamus, in true Irish spirit, was singing a Highland Rover song about a "wild rover" (which I would have no idea about, since I'm not Irish in the least . . . or, ya know, I am because both my parents were born there . . . but whatever). It was charming at first because of the swing-dancing accompanying it, but then he got to the part where he had to clap ("And it's no! Nay! Never!" -Clap clap clap clap- "No, nay, never- " and he was interrupted). The problem was, swing dancing and clapping are extremely difficult to do at the same time and he ended up flinging Lavender Brown across the room into Neville.

This caused Neville to fall forward and his plant to also go flying. Fortunately, it landed safely on Dean's head and saved him from the fire, which was starting to become quite fond of the complimenting young lad and scooting further and further to the grate. Unfortunately, he was saved because he was now unconscious. Boo-hoo, so sad, cry and cry and we're over it.

Ron was feeling a little bit shirked because all the dawgs were bein' mad grimy and jackin' his game. Honestly, don't they know how to give cred to a homie? Especially one who was currently armed with several hunks of smelly cheese in his pockets.

Harry knew (using his psychic powers I've decided to give him to appease Professor Trelawney and stop her from visiting my dreams and telling me I had a robotic foot) that Ron was such armed and tried to cease the Common Room-dwellers' singing. This wasn't hard, considering half of them were knocked out. (Hermione, however, was still on the table, getting her groove on and shaking her bon-bon so hard it looked painful.)

Just then, smoke appeared. (I realize this has nothing to do with anything, but that's sort of the point, isn't it?) Big, billowing clouds of purple smoke rose from the floor and covered the center of the Common Room. Everyone ducked for cover and Dean, who had just regained consciousness but was still slightly groggy, screamed, "HELP! RUSSIA'S COME! THEY'VE BROUGHT TEAR GAS! Oh, blimey, my head hurts . . . OH NO! THE RUSSIANS ARE SENDING DOWN PLANT BOMBS OF DOOM! HEEEELLLLPPP!" He was promptly hit with a rather stale (and therefore hard) chunk of cheese.

As the smoke started to clear, students stood up, coughing slightly, and tried to find the source of the incriminating smoke. A shadow became more focused as the clouds dissipated and there stood a lady. BUT not any old lady. Oh no, it was Trolley Lady, the woman who pushes the cart up and down the aisles on the Hogwarts Express.

Smiling evilly at the children, she opened her chapped and smirking lips to reveal yellow, crooked teeth. "Does anybody want . . . DEATH? HAHAHAHAHAHA! MWAAAAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA- ECAW! ECAW! coughcoughcoughcoughcough -HAHA! Ecaw. cough Ecaw."

"Erm, no, thanks," Ron said nervously, wondering why this woman said "ecaw" when she coughed.

"Are you kidding? I'll take five!" Colin Creevey - who had been standing on the back of a couch singing "I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt" – jumped down, picked up the lamp form a nearby table, and handed it to her. "Thanks, lady!" he cried gleefully as she handed him a black lollipop with a picture of a dainty white ghost on it that was sucking its thumb and walking like an Egyptian.

"Why you're quite welcome, dearest. And what can I do for you, kiddies?" Everyone immediately flocked to the woman and began making requests for different flavored shoes.

Harry, however, was rolling around on the ground, foaming at the mouth, clutching his forehead and trying to get people's attention. Usually a hiss of pain and smack on his head was enough for people to instantly worry and begin dancing the can-can. When he found that no one cared, he stood up, wiped away the foam, and yelled, "HEY!"

Everyone turned to face him.

_They did. Indeed they did. Except not EVERYONE did, did they? Dean didn't, he was unconscious and his hair had cheese all up in it. Bet he didn't face him, did he? And Parvati didn't either, because the licorice stick she'd been given was stuck to her tongue and she was in a desperate tug-of-war to free it. And-_

ExCUSE me, lil miss THANG, but this is MY story! YOU ART NOT WELCOME HITHER! So go ba-dunk-a-dunk over they-ah.

_Oh NO you did NOT just mention my ba-dunk-a-dunk! You know how – how that – h-hurts my – my . . . FEEEELINGSSSS!_

Oh, do shut up. I told you already that the pink gloves and orange stockings, whilst clashing extraordinarily, did not make you look fat. You've got no junk in da trunk, okay?

_-sniff- Really? And you forgive me for correcting you? I really didn't mean to, it's just . . . well, not everyone turned to face him, did they?_

-sigh- No. No, they didn't. So, anyway, everyone except for Dean and Parvati faced Harry and-

_Well, then there's-_

YOU'RE FAT GO DIE!

_WAAAAHHHHH!_

SO, they faced him and gave him a rather odd look. "What?" Ron asked, his Buddhist monk robes flowing on their own in an almost Snape-like billowy manner.

"My scar hurts!" Harry whined, pointing to his scar, which was flashing neon yellow.

"Why ever would that be?" Hermione asked, once again prim and proper, her bun magically back in place and modest robes loose and boring.

"BECAUSE SHE'S VOLDEMORT!" Harry yelled, pointing at Trolley Lady. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide, staring at Harry in shock.

"Harry, honestly, how can Trolley Lady be - " Ron started.

But Harry let out an Amazon War Cry (despite him not being a woman, let alone an amazing warrior . . .) and leapt onto the back of the coach. He then proceeded to flip and summersault, cartwheel and ricochet around the furniture and walls of the room; he circled the room a few times, spiraling ever closer to Trolley Lady. He even _Petrificus Totalus_-ed Dennis Creevey and used his body to pole-vault over everyone's heads, sticking his mount behind Trolley Lady. He stuck out his hand, grabbed the obnoxiously large zipper claiming "MADE IN YOUR MOMMA'S HOUSE . . . IN CHINA" that hung from under her wig, and unzipped the woman's façade . . .

* * *

Meanwhile, the Dun-Dun-Dun-First-Year-With-The-Really-Deep-Voice (who shall, from here forthwith, be dubbed Bob), woke up. He found himself in the frozen Alaskan Tundra, which surprised him considering he had fallen asleep in the Swiss Alps. However, he had Louisiana and was therefore content.

He stood up, looking around at the haze of blurry white dots, raining around him in a violent ballet, all in a race to reach the ground before the next, to fall upon their brothers and sister, slowly but surely building a frozen wall of powder and keeping out all but the most courageous (-cough-stupid-cough-) explorers. Well, ANYWAY, he got bored of just gazing around after a while, and started walking.

Now, since none of you want to know about how he trudged across the frozen wilderness, battling polar bears and antibodies and poisonous dart frogs, I'll just skip that part. So. He ended up in the middle Cincinnati, which is in Ohio and also very, very fun to say. Cincinnaticincinnaticincinnaticincinnati. Told ya. He was at an intersection, which happened to be playing host to a whole mess of automobiles, for some reason.

Bob started walking down the sidewalk, when he came across the strangest thing. Professor Snape. Except it wasn't Professor Snape. It looked like him, tall and greasy with too much hair and nose and not enough of that "humanity" junk people are always going on about. But he was wearing a long, tweed, green dress with a fox-fur scarf, a gigantic red handbag, and a tall hat with a stuffed vulture on top.

Bob, in his extraordinary shock, walked into a pole belonging to a streetlight. Said traffic light - which was currently serving as a perching point for several golden lion tamarins (cute li'l monkeys) that had escaped from a nearby nursing home – promptly disconnected. It flickered a few times (the woman currently waiting for it to turn green thought it was winking at her and blushed a matching red), and went out.

By the time Bob opened his eyes, he had a pleasant view of the gum-strewn sidewalk that was bouncing up and down, along with his spleen. He twisted his neck around and was poked in the eye by a beak. Instead, he looked back down at the ground, wondering why he was bent in half and still bouncing up and down. A long green stretch of fabric came down from under his stomach and two very white, very hairy legs were occasionally poking out as whoever was carrying him over their shoulder was jogging down the sidewalk.

_Aha!_ Bob thought. _It's that non-Snape person! _For a few seconds Bob was transfixed by the beautiful blue slippers (with pink sequins) the person was wearing, but then he remembered his "in case you find yourself being carried over a random stranger's shoulder" manners and began kicking and punching and screaming at said random stranger.

Non-Snape dropped Bob on the floor and stood over him, long green dress billowing out and revealing the afore-mentioned long and hairy legs. He looked down on the eleven-year-old (and pushed his hat back up because it'd fallen over his eyes), and sighed dramatically.

"We need your help. All of us. The entire world is at stake and it's up to you to save it. We can't stand up against the Dark Lord without you. It's in your hands, young Bob. Will you save us all?"

Bob chewed on his lip as he lay sprawled on the pavement, thinking it over. "Sure. But only if I can keep your purse. For Louisa, of course," he clarified at the odd look (as if Non-Snape had any right to look at him funny?), and held out his beloved plug.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Common Room. Harry had unzipped Trolley Lady to reveal, -gasp!-, A TEDDY BEAR!

_Wait, WHAT? A TEDDY BEAR? Sweet Lord Almighty, please come forth and smiteth my horrible multiple personality for she hath been inflicted with some horrendous disease to cause such pitiful Lack Of Sense –_

Hey! Will you shut up? I'm quite sick of your CONSTANT badgering, alright? Just SHUT UP, already! I've gotten this far, haven't I?

_Well, yeah, but I've gotten this far as well, and I haven't gotten any credit, now have I?_

Well, no. You've got a point there . . . But, wait! What am I saying? You haven't been the one WRITING all of this! You just come out at random intervals and correct me or question my Almighty Authority! And yet you DO get credit because, I don't know if you've noticed, but WE ARE THE SAME PERSON!

_Okay, okay! No need to get so snippy, jeez._

So, as I was saying before I was SO RUDELY interrupted, there stood a giant red teddy bear named Veruka.

Everyone stood quite still for a moment, until a 9-year-old Anakin stepped out from behind a plaid armchair that he'd been hiding behind for half the night, waiting for the right time for him to make his presence known. Mini-Ani, clad in full Tatooine-garb, pointed at the bear and said (as if it were the most obvious thing in the world which, really, it wasn't), "Hit the nose!"

Ron eagerly obeyed, as he was getting quite fond of the cheese chunks in his pockets (so much so that Hermione was starting to get jealous). He picked up one and brought it behind his head in a perfect Baseball-Pitcher Pose. Bringing one foot off the ground to give him power, he chucked the chunk at the maroon teddy bear's nose.

It, quite punctually, transformed into a large cardboard box. Said box's lid sprung opened and it gave several hiccups, launching more cardboard boxes of various sized around the room like a Russian matrioshka nesting doll.

_Except it wasn't a doll, was it? It was a box._

-IGNORES evilness and takes sarcasm seriously- Yes, dearest, you are right. It wasn't a doll at all. It was a box, emitting several other boxes. Some with beautiful landscapes painted upon them, some with tartan and tie-dye prints, some chugging bottles of Pepto Bismal; as we all know, no one parties harder than a cardboard box.

_

* * *

Oh, yes. On that wonderfully ridiculous note let us switch settings._

Exactly, Fatty, now go eat a chocolate bar.

_WAAAAAAHHHHHH!_

H'okay. So. We return to Bob and Non-Snape, who was now just Snape as he had explained to Bob that he was undercover on a mission to find the first-year who Dun-Dun-Dunned like no other, and was invaluable to the War Of The Dark Lord Voldemort.

They knew that this mission was of dire importance. If they didn't reach the school in time to stop You-Know-Who, then all 6.5 billion (as of February 25, 2006 and courtesty of Wikipedia) human beings on Earth - a large number of which are adorable and innocent little babies who are chubby and soft and wonderful, by the way – would perish in the eternal fires of Lord Voldemort's reign. So, naturally, they went for pizza.

They stopped in at Dewey's Pizza (because I Googled it and it's got a cool litte planet sign I thought appropriate). Snape got bacon and sausage pizza because he thought it manly, and let's face it, withthe women's clothes he was wearing, he really needed some masculinity; Bob got salt and pudding because it was Louisa's favorite and he was a true gentlemen. Unfortunately, halfway through the pizza they both noticed a decidedly tadpole-like scent wafting from the pie ((YAAAY!MARCH 14 IS PI DAY! Get it? Pie/pi, like in math? 3.14,3/14?)) and gave the rest to a hobo on the side of the road who instantly began to tap-dance.

Eventually, they found some place in Cincinnati where there was a Floo network and Flooed to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

_I wonder, have they heard of it?_

Hey, I insulted you and made you cry, why aren't you sulking in a corner of my essence eating ice cream?

_Because I just realized something._

Yeah, and wha's that?

_To quote an idiot: "I don't know if you've noticed, but WE ARE THE SAME PERSON!"_

Ah. I see.

_Really?_

NO! What the Cornelius _Fudge_ are you going on about?

_Well, if we're the same person . . . and I'm fat . . . Well, I think you can do the math._

No, actually, I've never been very good at algebra. . .

_IF WE'RE THE SAME PEOPLE AND I'M FAT THEN SO ARE YOU!_

Wait . . . you mean, I look just like you do?

_Precisely. You're a lucky fellow, huh?_

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOO!

_. . . Well, that was rather rude. You can't go running off screaming in horror and crashing into walls you know, you've got people who are waiting for you to finish your pointless attempt at literature._

_Oh blimey-in-a-jar, you're bloody unconscious? NO WAY!_

_Well, no doubt about it, that's pretty unconscious. Looks like I'll have to continue the story for you._

-moans-

_. . . Well, if you insist. -Grins evilly- H'okay. So. Where were we?_

_

* * *

So a pink box hiccupped from the large one and decided to sing. This was the last straw. After all, it had my multiple-personality-friend's voice (your ex-author). This voice tends to resemble a herd of pickled Bundimun skating on a frozen lake in Delaware, which – as you can imagine – is quite horrible._

_Harry knew he had to put a stop to it at once. He kicked the box._

Oh, please, he _so_ didn't kick the box.

_Excuse me? He so _did _kick the box, I don't know what YOU'RE talking about, you're not even supposed to be CONSCIOUS!_

Well, I am.

_But . . . but you're fat._

Yeah. I got over it. Be gone with ye.

POOF!

. . . Hey. It WORKED! HALLELUJAH! So. He didn't kick the box. He drew his wand, moved forward to strike, and proceeded to trip over the edge of a polka-dotted rug and tapped the cardboard box with his foot.

It fell over onto its side and turned into Voldemort.

I would use more dramatic effect but it's 12:12 AM and I don't feel like it. Deal.

Voldemort stood up and brandished his wand at the world, prepared to _Avada Kedavra_ its arse to smithereens. At that point, Snape and Bob crashed through the portrait hole.

* * *

Neville had retrieved his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ from beside Dean and was standing straight and ready to take on anyone who dared to take it from him.

Dean was unconscious, lucky bugger.

Colin was licking his Death with distress.

Parvati had given up trying to detach the licorice from her tongue and it hung down to her chin from her opened mouth.

Lavender had decided Mini-Ani was the most adorable thing ever and was poking him in the stomach like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

Snape hugged the vulture hat to his chest in an effort to survive the horrible tension.

Ginny, who had been taking hula lessons in her dormitory, walked down the stairs and sat on the singing pink box to shut it up.

_Told ya you had a horrible voice._

Shut up.

Harry held his toe and suddenly grew a life-long deep and highly prejudiced loathing of all rugs everywhere in the world.

Hermione released her hair clip and shook her hair down around her shoulders, grabbing Ron's hand and knowing that if they were to plunge into the depths of eternal hell, there was nowhere she'd rather her hand be.

Ron's (possibly) last Words O' Wisdom were, "Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak," in honor of the greatest wizard that ever lived.

Tom Riddle opened his mouth in preparation to utter the words that would ignite the world in fire and brimstone.

Bob, the Dun-Dun-Dun-First-Year-With-The-Really-Deep-Voice, clutched Louisiana in his hand and whispered, "Dun. Dun. Dun."

And Voldemort was ashes.

And the world was saved.

And Bob became the Boy-Who-Dunned.

And Harry had something to do with it.

And Ginny's hula instructor – who happened to be Barney – came down the stairs, put an Elvis record and started to dance.

And they weren't nuttin but a hound dog.


End file.
